Seer's Untold Story
by DeathNoteLover235
Summary: Mystery of the bat revealed!


Entry I

My name, is Barbra Gordon, and I am the daughter of the gcpd Commissioner, James Gordon.  
I don't believe my fathers occupation attracted me to the night life. Yet, here I am high above the city, cowering in the shadows, following his very footsteps.  
In the outside world I may be known as Barbara Gordon, but that's not who I really am.  
The real me, is here in the heavens, peering downward from the rooftops above. Protecting the people of Gotham city.  
Its not the cape and cowl that hide me from prying eyes, but the grins I paint on, to blend in with those people below me.  
I'm not apart of any certain group, I don't fit into any social norm. And i may appear confident and self assured, but truly I'm mot. I live a solitary life, keeping up appearances to appease the few who care. Hoping to fake it till I make it.  
I, am batgirl, I'm not sure what compelled me, but why isn't so crucial, it's how. I would like to take credit for the insignia, but I can't. I am merely an assistant if not a instrument to the man beside me. Each with are own clear goal, but a common thread tying us together...FIX GOTHAM. Which is easier, said then done I'm sure. Yet, I aid his endeavors, hoping to accomplish my preposterous, school girl fantasies of a better, brighter tomorrow.  
The caped crusader beside me, not only stalks the night, but has become it, a piece of it anyways.  
Batman, is the true protector, true hero of the citizens of Gotham, but to tell you my story, I must first begin by telling you his.

)*()*(

Like most stories, it starts on a dark ominous night, contrary to dark and stormy. Because in fact it was peaceful, and serene, with no impending doom anywhere in the general vicinity. I always believed that trouble, was like the ripples of water. They come in waves, devastate anything and everything in there path, but with the relief and vague hope. That the end was somewhere near in sight.  
Unfortunately this tale does not have a happily ever after. NO, this is one is of Tragedy, filled with loss of loved ones, and self.  
I can honesty say I've never believed in the calm after a storm, and I know why.  
And no matter how much I would love to pull the wool over your eyes, it would only deceive you from the truth. A truth to important, to vital to be hidden away, like rotten food in the back of the fridge no one bothers to throw away. I would spin a wonderful web of lies, if I could, but can't.

)*()*(

A family forging its way home, from a late night on the town, strolled into any ally, CRIME ALLY.  
I'm sure by now that the eerie title casts a foreseeable shadow, but not to the native gomthamites. To naive to believe in rumors and superstition, or maybe fooling themselves to believe their status above that of the common people.  
I have always believed that one should be treated by intentions they pursue, not the actions they take. Never warranting any unjust hostility for doing what must be done. Assured that the end, justifies the means, and that it is impossible to measure another merely by denying, and refusing to acknowledge the limited scope of which we witness. For the visible is obscured and paints an incomplete picture, especially when the painter with holds information.  
Rather held by their content, not the misleading cover we see, but I guess I was wrong.  
Maybe my views clash in a society such as ours, but there all I have. And there just that, ideas, pending notions, envisioned, to defy paying tribute to the horrors of reality. A wall to protect myself from the truth, from which we flee.

true, this couple had education and wealth, but not hindsight, not self awareness. To caring, trustworthy, to accustomed to the lavish lifestyle to know desperation. To blind, to know the extreme measures that the common people would actually take. Their son Bruce, had to pay the ultimate prize for their mistake, for their cruel ignorance. Learning just how far one will go, even for the simplest of things, that many take for granted, like food on the table.  
Then there are few who fail to notice, to preoccupied by their own, more precarious situations to care about anyone or thing else around.  
Fate has never been kind nor does it care, or take under consideration of those it harms. Simply handing out misfortune to any unlucky soul caught in its web. Pure instinct accompanied by rash action, taking no time to stop and wonder. Only forging ahead, with trails of dismembered bodies, battlefields bathed in blood, partnered with their dear friend and neighbor, massacres.  
Each filled with Tragedy and sorrow, with no rays of light to illuminate a path to any trace of hope. Yes, fate victimizes anyone and everyone, hence it's matronymic "CRUELTY." For it is just that, relentless, never wavering in its harrowing quest of fair injustice.  
I have always envisioned a world without boarders or boundaries, a world where anything is possible.  
As I tell this tale, these words weigh heavy on my heart. As I realize that my ideal society, is merely the epitome of my dreams. A dream that cannot be achieved, within a world, over flowing with scum. A world that deems taking lives of those most cherished, a worthy, justly cause to balance the unjust scales, to appease the false idols we praise.  
It's invisible laws, constantly broken, as the benevolent slip through its cracks, allowing the filth to thrive.  
The deities we cower before, pleading for mercy. Whose only reply is of indifference.  
Yes, a gruesome thought, that infinite old struggle of good and evil. It is at the equilibrium we allow ourselves to witness. BLINDED that the pure of heart triumph, BLINDED to the festering sore that petrifies, and grows. BLINDED, to the TRUTH, before are very eyes, that we have failed. The scales are far from even, except we have deluded ourselves, only realizing all to late to prevent a terrifying effect, That began with a simple solution. Instead, now we are plagued with the over flow of those with Cruel intentions.  
My vision was once obscured by these false tales we weave.  
Unlike my father, I treat the source, while he attempts to be the incorrect cure.  
Bruce Wayne, crown prince of Gotham had the wool removed on that frightful night. As all he knew withered away, along with his fraudulent misconceptions. When his he witnessed the assassination of all he held dear, his parents.  
Right before his eyes, as they died in his arms. Crimson fluid seeping from their wounds, staining Bruce's cloths, removing his innocence along with what remained of their lives, fading away.  
My innocence was taken as well, not in the form of loss, but desertion. No matter how different the cause the effect remains the same.  
My father more interested in his duties, mother with arguing with the man who failed his vows. No, my parents were not murdered, but they might as well have been.  
While his parents slipped away with any feeling of warmth. Abandoned, left out to the cold and harsh raging elements. With no protector, and no shelter, as he cowered in fear. Embracing the lifeless corpses strewn across his lap. They had once been the epicenter of his universe, the structure now only shambles as it tumbled all around. No longer magnificent sculptures, but the ruins, only reminding us of what once was.  
An unwanted epiphany combatively awakening and shattering his distorted conceptions of the world he knew. Into the horror it truly is, forever changing his views, on the streamline concepts of society.  
Giving birth, to the BATMAN.  
I may not have wanted to inform you, but I have an obligation, for the truth shall set you free.  
Few know of his story, I am one of those unlucky few.  
I've been told that ignorance is bliss, only now am I able to see and oh how I miss my misguided reality. Along with is comfort and warmth I was offered, no, bribed to remain in the dark.  
Nonetheless, I cannot alter the past, no matter how much I desperately desire as I cling to what darkness remain, while blinded by the LIGHT, of the hollow truth, that I once wholeheartedly cleaved. Only now, all to eager to rescinded my request, hand in my Resignation, once again becoming one of the "lucky" few. And once again be enveloped by the unknown, with the contentment, the truth so horribly took away.  
They've promised that dreams can come true, but forgot to mention that nightmares, are dreams too.


End file.
